


smudged

by cl3rks



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Memories, Oneshot, Post-TWS, and steve is just mentioned, pre-Civil War, the reader is kinda barely there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9791438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl3rks/pseuds/cl3rks
Summary: It's supposed to be him... but he's not sure.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this ages ago like just after tws and i NEVER posted it but it hurts my heart still so

The numbers on the backs of those photos are smudged as if the person who wrote them hadn't had enough time to let them dry before they were put away or, alternatively, ripped away.

They were dates, he soon realized.

Old dates.

Six numbers, two then a slash then another two followed by another slash before ending with the last two numbers.

Month, date, year.

 _Too many days,_ he thought, _too many months, too many years._ Those photos were so... old and worn but he had them. He didn't know why, but he had them.

They were in a box beneath the floorboards. He assumed they were put there by someone, whoever owned the house previously.

He had a feeling, oddly enough, that it was him. Or, at least, partially him and someone else.

He _was_ in the photos, after all. But he didn't remember why and he didn't remember when, he just had the smudged dates of artificial time staring at him.

You, of course, were staring at him as well. His arms were loosely around your body and yours around his, looking as though you were falling over and dragging him down as you did. Your lips pressed to his cheek and his lips stretched wide to show his toothy grin.

At least, he assumed it was him.

It sure looked like him.

Yet again, those dates... they're so old.

He wondered if you were happy. You sure looked it. He wondered if you were still out there somewhere, wondering what happened to him or if you had moved on.

He wondered a lot of things.

Even if he couldn't remember you, remember that time, the wondering going on at this moment? It was the most painful.

Your name was a blotchy, black smudge along with those dates. There was a plus sign and a very neat signature, one different from the rest of the writing. 

"Bucky."

He got some paper after a while and practiced. His hand shook and his eyes squinted and he got frustrated when it didn't look right. But he took a deep breath and thought of the girl, thought of you and suddenly;

 _"Bucky! I'm gonna fall!"_ Your voice was bubbly and light and you were giggling. It was a pleasant sound among the static in his head. _"Be careful, will ya! Watch your hands, mister! Just 'cause I'm hanging off of here doesn't mean you need to-"_

_"Need to what, doll?" Sounded like a happier him. "Last time I checked, I'm the one holding you. So, my hands are on your hips and they're not movin'! I'm tryin' to be respectful but you're the one insisting on getting that coin!"_

He glanced at the coin near the pile of pictures.

 _"It's a good luck charm, y'know? It's shiny, too!"_ Bucky made an unconvinced sound, both in his head and outside of it. _"Stevie'll like it."_

The man stopped verbally struggling.

He took a deep breath and shook away the memory (or the compensation of one, at least.)

His hand was a little steadier now, and, as best he could, he wrote out the name _"Bucky"_ several times before he stopped and smiled a little. He held it up proudly and matched it to the back of the photo.

 _Yeah,_ he thought. _Definitely mine... or at least mine back then._

He rifled through the box for a bit longer, only stopping when he saw a dull shine coming from the box. He spent a few minutes trying to convince himself he didn't see the two wedding bands sitting at the bottom right corner. But it's hard to convince yourself when you've got a soft voice knocking at the door of your brain, whispering _"I do."_ so tenderly.

**Author's Note:**

> that last line is an optional end, tell me if it fits or not


End file.
